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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045336">"You've Begun To Feel Like Home"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralsuitian/pseuds/floralsuitian'>floralsuitian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Headcanon, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Sexual Content, post s10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:08:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralsuitian/pseuds/floralsuitian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>~ In which Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich are completely and utterly in love with one another ~</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gallavich - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>"You've Begun To Feel Like Home"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was one of my favorite things to write. I literally love this so so much, and I hope you enjoyed this; make sure to check out my WIP, "tell me all the ways", if you haven't yet &lt;333</p><p>Love you all, happy reading!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>“What’s mine is yours to leave or take, what’s mine is yours to make your own…”</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>~’Look After You’, The Fray</em>
  </b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey doesn’t really remember having much sex before he met Ian. Sure, there were you know, females. Yeah, there were a lot of those. And none of them could ever really help him get off. He only hooked up with them to convince himself, tried to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>himself he wasn’t gay, that he wasn’t a homo. He wouldn’t be caught dead kissing a boy; hell, you couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>pay </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to suck a guy’s dick. Nope, never in a million years would he be caught dead in the act. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until Ian. Fucking Ian. That stupid, scrawny, freckle-faced middle Gallagher boy that had worked his way into his heart and into the deepest parts of him in ways no one would have ever been able to do before. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Until Ian.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers their first time. When Ian snuck into his room to get Linda’s gun back after Mickey’s happy ass stole it from the Kash ‘N Grab. He remembers it like it was yesterday. Can still remember Ian’s hands on him, the way he made him feel. No one had ever made him feel that way before. In his whole entire </span>
  <em>
    <span>life. </span>
  </em>
  <span>After that, they did it a lot. Sneaking around, teasing and touching in freezers, alleyways, even behind locked bedroom doors if they were desperate enough. And he remembers thinking that he didn’t like </span>
  <em>
    <span>boys, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he liked </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ian. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Ian was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and that was weird for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers the first time he kissed him. He was fucking <em>nervous</em>, but he did it. In the van outside of fucking Ned’s house, and he remembers feeling free in that moment. Ian’s lips had tasted like cigarettes but also like spearmint toothpaste. A combination that made his insides flutter and his cheeks heat. He remembers that he wanted to kiss Ian all the time after that. Every chance he could, he would kiss him. Softly, gently. Ian would smile against his lips, trail his hands up to his cheeks, hold him closely. But then sometimes their kisses were hot, and rough, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Mickey liked those a lot. Ian’s tongue against his, their breath mixing throughout one another’s mouths, Ian’s teeth nipping at his lips. Mickey liked kissing Ian when they first did it. He still does now. He likes to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Ian. He could never just </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. He likes being in his presence, watching him cook dinner, hearing him hum while he’s in the shower or brushing his teeth, hearing him talk on the phone to his siblings, he loves to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian likes to do what he calls “making love” when him and Mickey are intimate. Mickey thinks it’s the corniest shit he’s ever heard in his life, but he likes the term, he supposes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Making love. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There’s something safe about it, something calming and reassuring about it. Ian is all of those things to Mickey; safe, calming, reassuring, </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And right now, Ian wants to make love to him. Wants to kiss him slowly and tease him until he’s a withering mess beneath him, wants to make him feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>calm </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>reassured. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wants to hear him say Ian’s name right before he comes in that breathy tone the way he does, the way that makes Ian breathe into his mouth in little puffs of air, ones that make Mickey’s toes curl and his heart race. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>take care </span>
  </em>
  <span>of him. And Mickey </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>him so much, loves his heart and his voice and his laugh and his fucking goofy smile that he does when he’s making a lame joke, and Mickey wants Ian to make love to him too. Yeah, he really does. They’re good at it, they’ve always been good at sex, Mickey won’t lie about that. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>really fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>good at it. But they were also good </span>
  <em>
    <span>together. </span>
  </em>
  <span>At just </span>
  <em>
    <span>being. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They were good at holding hands after years of never going through with the act, they were good at talking in bed when they needed to be sleeping for work the next morning. They were good at the whole marriage thing even after so many people didn’t think they could do it. They were good at couple shit, and Mickey is just hopelessly in love with this boy, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>man </span>
  </em>
  <span>that stole his heart and never returned it. He had no intention of taking it back though; Ian could have it. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>have it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ian’s kissing him now. He’s holding his face in his hands, his long fingers curling around the back of Mickey’s head, his hands resting on Ian’s torso, feeling the plains of his chest and the dips and curves of his muscles. His skin is warm underneath his fingertips and he smells so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ian. Like Axe body spray and that fucking Suave body wash that’s probably Debbie’s, or maybe they all just share it. And it’s like coming home, like landing back home after being away for months. He loves </span>
  <em>
    <span>this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>just </span>
  <em>
    <span>being </span>
  </em>
  <span>here. With this man, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>this man who he’s actually scarily obsessed with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian’s mouth tastes like strawberry ice cream. He was eating some with Franny and Liam downstairs a little while ago before he put them to bed and Mickey is </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed </span>
  </em>
  <span>with it. The cold still on his tongue, the sweetness falling onto his own. Mickey’s sighing against his lips as Ian strokes his thumbs across the skin of his cheeks, his lips parting over and over again so Mickey can slip his tongue against his. And it’s like heaven, the way his mouth tastes and the gentleness of it all. It makes Mickey feel like he’s floating and he feels like he could die when Ian so softly says “I love you so fucking much,” against his mouth. Mickey doesn’t have the words right now, so he trails his hands to the front of Ian’s work pants and undoes the buckle slowly but swiftly. Ian moves his own hands down to Mickey’s jeans, mirroring the action and breathing softly into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Mick,” Ian says again and Mickey wants to melt into three hundred puddles on their bedroom floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he finally says, sliding Ian’s pants down to his mid-thighs, Ian doing the same to Mickey. Mickey steps back, sits down on the bed, never taking his eyes off of his lover. Ian bends down, kisses him again, nips at his bottom lip with his teeth in the way that makes Mickey’s eyes flutter closed. And Ian’s gently climbing over the top of him, tugging Mickey’s pants down to his ankles, tugging his own down too. Mickey kicks his away with his feet, leaning up on his elbows to press another kiss to Ian’s lips, catching his top lip between his own. And Ian’s humming against their kiss, parting his lips to give Mickey his tongue again. Ian kicks his pants away next, moving up the bed with Mickey underneath him and Mickey breathes him in like he’s oxygen. Mickey’s hands tangle in Ian’s hair, gently threading through the soft strands and Ian kisses down his cheeks, his neck, his jawline, his chest. And Mickey sighs, keeps his fingers in Ian’s hair, lets him leave open mouthed kisses against his already heated skin, and Mickey could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>die </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now, could fade away into nothing, but knowing that Ian was kissing him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>loving </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, would be enough for him to die happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian mouths at Mickey’s hip, nips at the skin directly above his boxers and Mickey’s lips part, his eyes closed and he feels it again, Ian’s mouth; but this time he’s mouthing at him through the material of his boxers. And Mickey is so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>content </span>
  </em>
  <span>in this very moment, he doesn’t even care what Ian does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You smell so good,” Ian hums, and if Mickey could speak he would tell him the same thing. Ian sits up on his knees slips his fingers into the waistband of Mickey’s boxers, tugs them down his already tensed thighs and he’s so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard </span>
  </em>
  <span>he could explode. And he feels like he does when Ian’s mouth, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet </span>
  </em>
  <span>mouth presses kisses to the insides of his legs, his thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ian,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mickey breathes, his cock twitching when Ian nips at the skin right between his thigh and hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mickey,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ian repeats in the same breathy tone that Mickey just did; he chuckles at him when he does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-take yours off too,” Mickey says, sitting up on his elbows for a moment to look down at Ian, who still has his boxers on. Ian smiles at him, leans forward, kisses him softly, then slips his own boxers off, kicking them to the floor somewhere behind them. And Mickey pulls him on top of him, dragging his hands over the span of his torso, the dip in his back leading to his ass, his shoulder blades, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling </span>
  </em>
  <span>him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>being there</span>
  </em>
  <span> in this moment with him. This boy, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>man. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ian tugs the sheet over his lower back, encasing them in a little bubble and Mickey reaches behind him on the nightstand for the lube. Ian smiles at him when Mickey shakes the bottle in his hand, leaning down to kiss his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so cute, have I ever told you that?,” Ian teases as he takes the lube from Mickey’s hand, opening the cap and squeezing some onto his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have, and I will knock your teeth out if you call me that again,” Mickey retaliates, then gasps when Ian presses his cold fingers against Mickey’s entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?,” Ian crooks his fingers slowly, watches Mickey’s face as he bites down on his bottom lip, scrunches his forehead, squeezes Ian’s hip under the blanket. Mickey shakes his head at Ian’s teasing, then answers with a low, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I thought,” Ian whispers, pressing his lips to Mickey’s jaw, circling his fingers slowly against Mickey, feeling his hips raising to fuck himself slowly against Ian’s fingers. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it is everything. Mickey </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>this, loves </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ian, </span>
  </em>
  <span>loves doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>these things </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Ian, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>loving </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>being. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come yet, bub,” Ian says, placing a kiss to his cheek and using the nickname that he sometimes used for Mickey usually when he was being playful or just teasing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>then come on,” Mickey whines, locking his legs around Ian’s waist, feeling Ian’s knee against the back of his thigh, lowering himself, nudging past his entrance, entering him slowly, pushing all the way in until he’s flush against the back of Mickey’s thighs, his lips pressed to Ian’s, breath mixing, soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>unhs </span>
  </em>
  <span>and little whispers of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Ian moves inside of him. Slow, slow, gentle, gentle, fingers intertwining next to Mickey’s head, Ian’s head buried in his neck, and even through the thin sheen of sweat, Mickey can still smell Ian’s smell, his body spray and the body wash and his strawberry ice cream breath as he breaths against his cheek, into his mouth, his cock moving softly inside of him, but still enough to make Mickey’s insides turn, his toes curl, his lips to utter </span>
  <em>
    <span>“yes, more”, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Ian gives him more. More slow rocks of his hips, slow teasing kisses, slow drags of his length in and out of him. It’s like he’s fucking dreaming, this can’t be happening, not to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel so good, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>good, bubs,” Ian whispers, using that nickname again. Mickey doesn’t mind it, it makes him feel warm and kind of cozy when Ian uses it, especially when they’re intertwined like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I love you, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>you,” Mickey moans, wrapping his arms around Ian’s back, his fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of his neck. Ian’s body falls flush against his and he brings his hands to Mickey’s cheeks, pressing their foreheads together, sharing more breath, more little sounds, more </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian’s hips begin to stutter softly, Mickey’s legs begin to shake against his hips, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>is everything too. It’s absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft </span>
  </em>
  <span>and fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Ian scrunches his eyebrows, shifts his hips a bit to find that spot that makes Mickey come undone. Ian breathes out another soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>unh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>then another, and another, then a </span>
  <em>
    <span>“yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mick, come for me, come on, oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, yes, unh…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, come with me,” Mickey breathes, and Ian nods as their lips meet again. There’s something about it, finishing at the same time. Mickey never really thought about it before, but the first time it happened it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>unreal. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The way they both orgasmed at the same time. Ian giggled afterwards, saying “we’ve never done that before,” and Mickey gave him a “hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Came together, we’ve never done that before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Mickey didn’t really think much more about it, until it happened </span>
  <em>
    <span>again </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then he understood a bit more. Them coming at the same time. It was like fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was something so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>intimate about it, something so </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>raw </span>
  </em>
  <span>about the action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So this is probably like, the seventeenth time they’ve come at the same time (Mickey and Ian have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>of sex and he’s honestly lost count), and this time is probably his favorite. Because Ian is smiling when they finish and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>moaning so softly</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Mickey’s kissing his smile, cupping his neck, feeling his softening cock still inside of him, his legs unwrapping from Ian’s lower back, the sheet still encasing their warm bodies, Ian’s fingers dragging through his damp hair, across his cheeks, his nose, his chest, and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. Fucking everything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Mickey could live in this forever, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>being </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I am so in love with you,” Ian whispers, still laying on top of Mickey’s chest, still resting inside him, “I love you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re pretty alright yourself,” Mickey’s lips are brushing against Ian’s as he talks and Ian giggles like he did when they first came together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bubs,” Ian teases, poking his tongue against his lips; Mickey smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bubs,” he repeats as Ian hums against the skin of his cheek. He finally pulls himself off of Mickey, the sheet revealing Mickey’s naked body as Ian tries to cover them both again. Mickey turns to face his lover, threading his fingers through his hair again, Ian’s fingers gliding over his bare hip under the sheet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you,” Ian whispers again, and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>calming </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>reassuring </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ian. His </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ian, his love, his heart, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you, too,” Mickey’s eyes are fluttering closed and Ian’s kissing his forehead, pulling him closer to snuggle against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep, love,” Ian feathers his fingers over his skin; across his hips, his arms, his back, as he begins to fall asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey never had a lot sex before Ian. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he didn’t have a lot of </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>before Ian. He didn’t have someone to come home to at night, someone to make him dinner and kiss him goodnight, didn’t have someone to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make love </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. He didn’t get that shit, he didn’t get to have nice things. Until Ian. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Until Ian. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And yeah, Ian gets on his nerves, sure. He gets under his skin and drives him crazy, but he fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>this boy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This man, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he gets to have dinners and kisses and hand holding and love making and smiles and </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>because of Ian. The beautiful, redheaded, freckle-faced </span>
  <em>
    <span>man </span>
  </em>
  <span>who worked his way into his heart and made a home there. And yeah, Mickey’s utterly in love and </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. Just a little bit. </span>
</p>
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